


Nixie

by StealthKaiju



Series: The Tales My Grandmother Told Me [2]
Category: Faerie Folklore
Genre: Folklore, Grief/Mourning, Loss, Mythology - Freeform, Revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-09 13:20:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19476736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StealthKaiju/pseuds/StealthKaiju
Summary: Do not go into the water. She waits there, and she wants you to join her...





	Nixie

I catch the eye of the driver in the rear-view mirror. ‘I’ll give you fifty quid for each eco freak you run over.’

He laughs, a polite chuckle. He presumes I’m joking (I’m not). ‘You have got them locals a little worked up, haven’t you sir?’ He nods. ‘You sure have.’

I am aware I make this man nervous. This may be because in the two hours he has driven me I have not smiled once; combine this with the fact that I am wearing a suit that cost more than he makes in a month – pre-tax – and have a face that not even a mother could love.

‘It’s not even a lake, just an oversized pond really’ I answer, then get back to reading the paper.

*

My brother died when I was fourteen.

We were holidaying with my aunt, who lived near the lake. It had been an incredibly dull week, what with the weather being awful and my aunt just hosting all these parties with stuffed shirts and their wives. I think she worked in finance. Can’t even remember her very well. I know she used to wear high, strappy heels, which was foolish because she had very ugly looking feet. I have a vague recollection of pink lipstick, blond hair piled on top of her head, and the smell of jasmine. Never seen her since.

Max and I spent a lot of time outdoors, mostly in the café annoying the locals, or sitting by the lake wishing we were somewhere else, as we were then. Max was nine minutes older than me, but still thought he knew everything.

‘No third base is when you get to beneath the skirt,’ he was saying to me.

‘I thought that was second base.’

‘No, you plonker. Definitely third.’

(I was always a plonker). ‘Why is it third? And why ‘bases’ anyway?’

He sighed, looking at me with pity. ‘It’s a baseball reference.’

‘Well, it’s stupid.’

He laughed, patting me on the shoulder. ‘You don’t need to worry. You’re not going to get anywhere with a girl. You’re too ugly.’

I aimed a punch at his head, but he rolled out of the way. ‘You’re a moron Max. We’re twins, _identica_ l twins.’ I stuck my tongue out at him. ‘So, _ipso facto_ , if I’m ugly, so are you.’

He shook his head. ‘Nah, you’ve got bigger ears, and you’re eyes are too small.’

Max was the only one who could tease me like this, as I wouldn’t have stood for it from anyone else. But Max had my back. He was the one who had all the ideas, knew all the jokes, and was always able to get us out of any trouble he managed to get us in.

‘Well,’ I replied, holding my nose, ‘at least I don’t stink like you do!’

I’m not sure at which point in the ensuing argument we saw her, but we did. By the edge, a few metres away from us and standing in water waist-deep, was a girl.

‘Whoah, where did you come from?’ I called to her, but she didn’t answer.

She wasn’t wearing a swimsuit or ordinary clothes. She wasn’t wearing anything. Her skin was as white as mother of pearl, and had the same sheen to it. Her long white hair clung to the curves of her body. She looked straight at us, her eyes very large and black, bordered by white eyelashes.

She didn’t look that much older than us. Sixteen, seventeen maybe? The swell of her breasts covered by her hair made it difficult to concentrate.

‘Uh….’ I was flustered, standing up sharply, taking a few tentative steps towards her. ‘Are you okay? Do you need help?’

She gave me a cursory glance, then looked straight at Max. Her lips stretched into a smile, and she held out her hand to him.

I almost fell over by the force with which he barged past me. I grabbed his hand, whirling him round to face me. ‘What on earth are you doing?’ I whispered. But he didn’t seem to hear me. As I stared at him, I could see his eyes were glazed, and his bottom lip was hanging open. He couldn’t hear me or see me. I started shaking him, but he pushed me.

I was never as strong as him. I fell over, landing on my back, and scrabbled to my feet. He was walking slowly to the water, where the girl had opened her arms to admit him. I pulled at his wrist, and he dragged me along with him.

We both ended in the water, the cold seeping through our bodies. I desperately flailed, trying not to swallow any of the dirty green water. I managed to stand up, and saw the girl was slowly moving backwards, leading him to the deeper water.

I lunged for him, nearly losing my footing in the mud at the lake’s bottom. I grabbed his wrist again, digging my nails in. ‘For fuck’s sake, what the hell are you doing Max?!’ I yelled at him.

The girl started laughing, and it was a foul sound – like pebbles smashing in to each other. ‘ _Max…_ ’ she breathed. ‘ _M…a…..x….._ ’

He pulled me under, and I had to let go of his wrist so I could swim to the surface. I was out of my depth, and cycled my legs frantically. They had already moved further away, at least ten feet. And I saw her, cradling Max’s head as he was lying on his back in the water, his eyes closed, so peaceful. And she looked at me, her eyes two black holes. She whispered, but it was like she had shouted the word in my ear…

_Mine._

Then she dived under, pulling him down with her.

*

I’m not sure how long I swam around the lake looking for them. I kept diving in, my eyes stinging from the water. My legs and arms began to feel like lead, but still I kept circling.

Someone – the librarian, of all people – pulled me out. He had heard me screaming, and managed to swim to me. He pulled me gently, holding me under the arms and keeping my head above water, as I no longer had the strength to hold it up on my own.

‘Ssh, you’re okay’ he said, as he laid me out on the bank, taking a jacket and putting it around me. He rubbed his hands over my legs, massaging some feeling back into them. ‘‘You’re okay, you’re okay.’

I heard the sound of people, and turned to see my mother and aunt with a few people in lounge suits. My mother rushed up to me. ‘Oh my god, Max are you…’ she began, but the words died in her throat.

‘There, there was a girl,’ I start, but end up coughing water and vomit down myself. The librarian kneels beside me, squeezing my shoulder. I look at him, and see he has his finger on his lips. His eyes are angry, yet very sad.

My mother has her back to me, as she stands at the water’s edge. There is a loud ‘ploo-op’ sound, as my brother’s body resurfaces like a terrible family secret. There is a horrible, animal screech from my mother as she falls to her knees.

At this point, mercifully, I faint into the waiting arms of the librarian.

*

We had to move of course. The coroner had recorded ‘death by misadventure’ (everyone ignored what I said about the girl), but our neighbours still gave me odd looks and whispered to each other. My next school was actually better for me. I know this sounds awful, but without the shadow of Max, who had been better than me at everything, I blossomed.

I still missed him. I don’t think there has been a single day when I haven’t thought of him. I read once that grief is like arthritis – some days you hardly notice it, other days you can’t face getting out of bed.

I tried to tell my mother this. We were sitting watching crappy tv with our dinner on our laps, and I saw her looking at old photographs on the mantelpiece. All of Max, his smiling, unchanging face.

‘Mum…’ I began, but she hardly heard me. A thought, one that had been flitting at the back of my mind for a long time, was no longer to be ignored. ‘You wish it had been me, don’t you?’ I whispered.

She looked at me, and shrugged. ‘He was just easier to love…’

I threw the plate off my lap and stormed upstairs. The anger inside my head buzzed like a wasp in a jar. I punched the wall, staining it with my bloody knuckles, then began throwing what few possessions I had onto the floor.

I hated Max then. With every cell in my body, I hated him: I hated him for being the golden child; I hated him for being safe from ever being a disappointment; yet, most of all, I hated him for being dead.

Soon after I walked out of the house and never went back. I no longer talk to my mother. I am waiting for her to get old enough that I can shove her in a home and leave her to rot.

*

In twenty years the area has barely changed. Their greasy spoons have been replaced by gastro pubs, and there are a few posh BnBs, but that’s about it. There have been protestors on the site for the last few months, although now the paperwork has gone through, they can’t even appeal.

I’ve bought the site. In the next few months the water will be pumped away, and it’ll be concreted over. I’m not sure what I’ll build over it – it’ll be something heavy. And soulless.

Then maybe, just maybe, the girl - with the concrete over her, trapped in an airless bubble - will have some idea of how I feel.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. As always, any comments / feedback always appreciated.


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